“Her Prince Charming is a Princess,” My Grandmother Said

Last week, Deepa Metha’s upcoming film Funny Boy was announced as Canada’s official selection for Best International Feature Film for the 2021 Academy Awards. The film tells a story of awakening sexual identity against the backdrop of Sri Lanka’s most turbulent periods in the 70s and 80s. People from the Tamil diaspora are calling for a boycott of the queer coming-of-age movie. Such controversy is normal for the Indo-Canadian filmmaker, whose productions have endured unruly protests and government shutdowns. Production on her Oscar-nominated film Water was uprooted from India after Hindu protestors burned the set down. That film was subsequently shot in Sri Lanka, which is the setting of Funny Boy. I was first introduced to Deepa Mehta’s films by my grandmother, Nani.

I spent most of my early youth years reading stolen books in the alleys, exploring the city on my bicycle, and writing stories for children’s publications. At least that’s what my parents initially thought I did. I grew up in a house without a telephone, a VCR, or a computer. So I wrote by hand, and later transferred to WordPerfect on my friend’s desktop. Not having a phone was also not a problem, because everyone called me on my neighbor’s phone, though the day my dad discovered that all the friends that called were girls, he moved me to an all-boys school (but that’s another story). TV was a luxury in those days, so I watched all of my favorite shows and movies at my grandmother’s place. Whenever I went to Nani’s place (which was quite often) I felt like Alice in Wonderland, it was a world different from all the others. If you read my last blog post about how my Nani took me to the red light district, you know how liberal she was.

Nani’s place was my wonderland, my art studio, and a rabbit hole to new experiences.

One day, on my way home from school, I stopped by at Nani’s place, to give her some ginger sweets I bought from a Burmese store. “I want you to watch this film. Alone,” Nani gave me a black VHS tape, and put the sweet in her mouth, “I loved this when I was a kid,” she said. “The movie?” I asked. “No, the candy, you fool. This film just came out.” The VHS tape had a white label on the spine that read FIRE in hand-written script. I recognized the handwriting, so I knew it was a banned film.

“You know Deepa Mehta made this film. She’s Canadian, just like you?” Nani said. I shook my head. “And Shabana Azmi’s character is someone you have never seen before,” Nani said. “What do you mean?” I looked at the VHS tape. “Her prince charming is a princess,” she smiled.

Fire was one of the first mainstream Bollywood films to explicitly show homosexual relations, and the first to feature a lesbian relationship. After its release in India, activists staged several protests, setting off a flurry of public dialogue around issues such as homosexuality and freedom of speech.

I’m fortunate to have a childhood where my Nani was my role model. She opened up my mind at a very young age, she inspired me to think differently, to be empathetic, and empowered me to write about the things that bothered me; about my life, my culture, my society, and my future.

Five years later, I stood in line to watch Deepa Mehta’s new film Bollywood/Hollywood at Calgary International Film Festival. I knew the festival circuit well, so I snuck in the after party, in the hopes of meeting Deepa Mehta, but there was a big crowd around her, and I knew I had to wait.

So I went to get a drink. Surprisingly there was no one at the bar, except one guy. “You came to the right place,” he said. It was the legendary Ranjit Chowdhry (he passed away earlier this year) who has been in many of Deepa Mehta’s films, including Fire, where he played the role of Mundu; a horny servant.

“Holy shit, you’re the one who masturbated in front of the paralyzed old lady!” I blurted out. “That’s me,” he smiled. I don’t know why I said that, but I have done worse. When I told him the story of my Nani and the banned VHS tape, he took me to Deepa Mehta.

“I would love to meet your Nani one day,” she said. Deepa Mehta is an icon, an inspiration, and a true storyteller. I can’t wait for Funny Boy to come out next month. Wish Nani was here. I wonder if she gets Netflix and the Burmese ginger candies up there, but knowing my Nani, I’m sure she’s set for after life.